


roman holiday

by freetobeyouandme



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Road Trip, Best Friends, Boys Kissing, Domestic Castiel/Dean Winchester, High School Student Castiel, High School Student Dean, Lost Boys, M/M, Protective Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-07
Updated: 2015-09-07
Packaged: 2018-04-19 13:04:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4747472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freetobeyouandme/pseuds/freetobeyouandme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Dean couldn't breathe.<br/>Cas’ sarcastic retort hitched in his throat.<br/>Their faces were inches, no, centimeters apart.<br/>Cas could feel Dean’s breath on his lips and Dean could feel Cas’ pulse pounding against his fingertips.<br/>Ten years of waiting.<br/>Ten years of back and forth, of friendship and harmless flirting that somehow turned into something so much more."</p>
<p>the one where dean and cas just want to live a little before senior year.</p>
            </blockquote>





	roman holiday

**Author's Note:**

> I've woven some different song lyrics with this one that I feel go really well with the story–I highly recommend listening to some or all of these songs while reading:
> 
> Roman Holiday- Halsey  
> Never Let Me Go- Florence & the Machine  
> Crystals- Of Monsters and Men  
> Wilder Mind- Mumford & Sons  
> Colors- Halsey   
> WILD- Troye Sivan

     Castiel knew the second his bedroom door banged open that the peaceful afternoon he had planned was not going to happen. He sighed and looked up from his book, marking the page with his left index finger and preparing himself for the inevitable. Dean stood in his doorway panting like he had run the three blocks from his house and seeming more excited than he'd been since he'd had the brilliant idea to shoot a firework into their calc teacher's bedroom window at 3:00AM on the Fourth of July last year. (They were never caught, although everyone knew it was them anyway. Dean had been suspended last year for doing something similar to a guy that had bullied Cas.) It was still one of Dean's proudest moments, while Cas was just relieved they didn't set Mr. Crowley's house on fire.   
     Now Dean had that glint in his green eyes that spelled trouble and usually ended up with somebody getting hurt. Cas raised an eyebrow at him, not even bothering to protest yet.   
"Hey, don't you look at me with that tone of eyebrow, mister," Dean scolded, pulling off a scarily accurate imitation of Castiel's mother and throwing himself onto Cas' bed so his back was resting against Cas' knees. Cas whacked him with his book–this one clocking in at over eight hundred pages–and Dean yelped in a decidedly unmanly fashion. "What the hell are you reading, a dictionary?" He turned so he was facing his best friend, looping his arms around Cas' legs and resting his chin on his knees. _“The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes."_ He announced, plucking the classic novel from Cas' fingers and throwing it over his shoulder. Castiel sighed and glowered at Dean, pushing his glasses up on his nose. He wore contacts in public so Dean and his family were really the only ones to see him with the obnoxious frames. He hated his glasses but knew Dean loved them, so he wore them with little complaint.  
     "Dean. How many times do I have to tell you--"  
     "Let's go on a vacation." Dean interrupted, and despite himself Cas was stunned into silence. He gave Dean a quizzical look but let him keep talking. "We're going to be seniors this year. High school is supposed to be the Glory Days! And all you've been doing this summer is sitting here and reading." Cas tried to protest and Dean held up a hand. "There's nothin’ wrong with that. I'm just saying that it's time we went on a road trip."

Castiel thought about it. Dean wasn't wrong. Cas wasn't exactly the adventurous type, and in the almost ten years he'd been best friends with Dean Winchester they'd never gone on a road trip by themselves.  
"It...it might be fun." He admitted grudgingly, and Dean beamed.   
Cas decided that he would follow Dean to the end of the universe if it meant giving him reason to smile like that.

  
_“and you can call it love_

_if you want...”_  
  
     After roughly twenty minutes of shooting ideas back and forth, they decided to drive to a few hours away to a fairly large lake the Winchester family had been going to since Dean was a chubby toddler too clumsy and curious to be let out of Mary's sight. It was one of Dean's favorite places, one he hadn't taken Cas to visit yet although they had been on tons of family vacations together. Cas had a large family; the Novak vacations were rare and stressful things. Gabriel and Cas tortured each other and Michael got fed up with both of them even though he and Lucifer were at each other's throats 24/7--Anna lived in a constant state of rebellion and Balthazar was too arrogant for his own good.  
In short, the Novak household was a three ring circus that didn't result in many vacations.   
    Cas smiled at his best friend and grabbed his elbow, jumping up and dragging him out of the room. Dean laughed and let him, following down the stairs into the kitchen, where Mrs. Novak sat at the table reading the paper. She glanced up as they entered and smiled knowingly, setting the newspaper down before raising both eyebrows--a gesture that Dean saw all too often on the face of her son. Dean tipped an imaginary top hat, flashing that charming smile that could melt even the coldest gaze.

    "Mrs. Novak," He greeted diplomatically. "Looking beautiful as usual."  
Janet Novak rolled eyes that bore an eerie resemblance to her son's. She was indeed a beautiful woman, almost ethereal. Even at thirty-seven her complexion was smooth and free of wrinkles; her deep blue gaze always held something akin to mischief.   
    "Why, Dean. What a pleasure," she smiled. "You know, if you weren't so infatuated with my son I would assume that you were here so often for _me_." Now there was something else behind smile, something that said she knew something they didn't. A wave of heat rushed up Cas' neck and he hastily dropped his hold on Dean's elbow.   
     "Mom!" He groaned, and Janet laughed.   
     "Just joking, boys." She winked and went back to reading her paper, and as they left the kitchen Dean prayed that Castiel didn't notice the color on his cheeks.

_“you touched me, and suddenly i was a lilac sky.”_  
  
     "I told you that you should have taken the last exit," Cas pointed out, craning his neck to watch a rather sketchy looking barn whip by their window. They'd been practically off-roading for the last twenty minutes; the only civilization they saw came in the form of abandoned-looking farm houses and occasional gas stations adjacent to ratty motels. Dean's Impala fit in disturbingly well with the scene, and there was an odd part of Cas that wondered if in another universe this is where Dean belonged: out on the open road. He shook the feeling off, slightly unnerved. It brought his thoughts to life beyond high school; he didn't want to dwell on that right now. Thank God for Dean snapping him out of his reverie by plucking the map from his hands.   
     "I know exactly where I'm going." He said self-importantly. The uncertain way his eyes flicked between the road signs and the map said otherwise. Castiel snorted.   
     "Dean."  
     "Shut up."  
     " _Dean_."  
     "Fine, you asshole. I'm lost! Happy?"   
Cas nodded, not even trying to wipe the smug look off his face.   
It wasn't often you got Dean Winchester to admit defeat.   
  
Much to Dean's relief, they weren't terribly far off track and within thirty minutes they swung into their destination. The parking lot was blissfully empty, the only thing keeping them company was the discarded beer bottles glinting in the fading sunlight. Dean stepped out and swung the door to the Impala shut before walking over to the passenger side and leaning against the car next to Cas. The sun was just setting over the lake, a sunset Dean remembered as his favorite in the world. A sad smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as a memory resurfaced.

_“Dean! Dean, look!” A six-year old Sam called across the beach, waving his older brother over with the fervent energy of a child. As Dean walked closer, he noticed a shabby sandcastle a few feet in front of where his brother kneeled. He laughed and ruffled Sam’s hair, earning him a good-natured scowl._

_“You need more water with that, Sammy. Otherwise the sand ain’t gonna stick.” He sat cross-legged on the beach next to Sam, gathering the sand closer to the edge of the water, the sand that was saturated with mucky water and sure to do just fine. A little over ten years old, Dean considered himself too old to make sandcastles. But he could help Sammy with his, right? That doesn't count as little kid stuff if he's just being a good big brother._

_And so they worked on the sandcastle until the sunset threw a million shades of orange and yellow across the sky. Sam nudged Dean with a sandy foot and nodded at the sight, smiling a gap-toothed smile. Dean turned to look at it and the beauty struck him all at once, his bones heavy with awe and his eyes glowing._

_In was in these moments that Dean was sure God put the colors in the sky just for him._

“Dean? You alright?”

Dean snapped out of the memory, shaking his head slightly to clear it. “Yeah. Yeah, I'm just...remembering, I guess.” He laughed, but there was something choked in the sound. Cas didn't say anything but simply leaned his shoulder against his best friend’s, silently saying everything they wouldn't dare say out loud. Dean concentrated too hard on the horizon over the lake, doing everything not to think about the comforting weight and the feelings that rushed to the surface along with it. He could see Cas looking at him from the corner of his eye but didn't turn, could feel his gaze on him but didn't give in.

Cas ached to reach out and grab Dean’s hand, yearned with an almost unbearable urge to tangle their fingers together. But Dean was so unpredictable and in these moments Cas just took whatever he could bear to offer. It wasn't like they were _together_ or anything. It wasn't like they had ever addressed this, this _thing_ between them. Whenever one tried the words seem to catch on the way out; windpipes were suddenly filled with cotton and chests swelled with confessions unspoken–as well as the pain that came from withholding them. Cas sighed softly and settled for the reassurance that came with Dean standing next to him.

_“has anybody seen all my wasted love?_

_i've been down every street_

_no, i won't give up...”_

     They slept in the Impala that night.

Sure, they could have gotten one of the motels half a mile down the road. But it just didn't have the same “road trip” feeling and by the time they decided to turn in neither felt like driving. Dean took the backseat and Cas took the front, covering up with blankets they had packed in the trunk of the car. The only sound was the whisper of the trees and the gentle lapping of the moonlight-glinted waves against the lake shore. There was a heavy peacefulness about it all, heavy like maple syrup and honey, heavy like time slowing down around them.

“‘night, Cas.”

“Goodnight, Dean.”

_I love you._

     Cas woke when the moon was directly overhead to the sound of Dean thrashing in his sleep. These nightmares were almost a routine, but it didn't make it any easier. Castiel wasted no time, clambering up and over the seat to reach his best friend–who was now whimpering and gripping his blanket tightly. He kneeled next to the seat and gently shook Dean’s shoulder.

“Dean. Dean, hey, hey, buddy–wake up. You're okay. Wake up,” Cas’ heart lurched when Dean’s eyes opened, bright with fear. “Hey.” He shifted so he was sitting on the seat next to the other boy, not in the least bit surprised when Dean fell into his arms. Sliding closer, he held Dean in the way he never could during the light of day–Dean only let himself be vulnerable in these dark hours, when the fear and pain was too much to bear alone. Dean was soaked in a cold sweat and shaking as he tucked his face in the crook of Castiel’s neck. He was lost at sea and Castiel was his anchor.

Cas soul screamed in these stolen moments, when he could hold the boy he was in love with so close their heartbeats synched. It was a bittersweet ache, because he felt Dean’s pain as if it were his own.

“Was it your dad again?” He whispered, tracing gentle circles on Dean’s lower back. It was a tactic he had discovered a long long time ago, when he and his best friend were still young enough to take naps in the same bed. It was their thing: whenever one or the other was upset they would trace words or patterns; it was sometimes the only thing that would calm down Dean after a particularly nasty nightmare.

There was no sound in the car except for their labored breathing until Dean blew out a breath and nodded. “Yeah. He..he was mad at me again. I don't remember why, I don't know if it was a memory or a dream, I just know that he–he hit me over and over and I just wanted it to stop, Cas. I just wanted it to go away.” His voice was cracking and trembling and unstable, his body still shaking. Cas held him tighter, closing his eyes and waiting for the burst of anger to ebb and flow away. Even after all this time, John Winchester had such an effect on his son; Dean was seventeen and still having nightmares, for Christ’s sake.

“I want to kill him for what he did to you,” Cas held back stubborn tears. He had to be the strong one here. He had to hold it together for Dean’s sake.

“I know you do,” Dean sighed, resting his forehead on Cas’ shoulder. He felt better. Much better that Cas was here with him. The nightmares were forgotten a lot quicker when Cas was here.

_“the arms of the ocean are carrying me_

_and all this devotion was rushing over me_

_the questions i have for a sinner like me_

_but the arms of the ocean_

_deliver me...”_

 

     They decided to go for a swim around midday.

The air was lighter and the day was crisp but not in a cold way–in a clean way. Dean was in a great mood, showing no signs of the trauma relieved the night before. He teased Cas over a batch of bacon cooked on one of those “weird green camping grills” (according to Cas) and they stole food off each other’s plates like proper boys. A reach here, a hand slapping another away there, a laugh followed by an insult. This cycle repeated over and over until all the food was gone and Castiel had complained for ten minutes about how the thermos of coffee burned his tongue. Dean just rolled his eyes and said, “Want me to kiss it better?” They laughed and pretended not to notice what was implied, even though when Cas turned away the tips of his ears were on fire and Dean decided to run down to the shore and set up camp for the day.

As he laid the picnic blanket down Dean tried to not let his mind wander to what Cas’ lips would feel like dragging against his own, tried not to think about breathy _“I love you’s”_ spoken in the confines of morning sunlight. These were unrealistic thoughts, dangerous thoughts. These thoughts could lead to actions that he would regret later. He pushed them away.

Cas came down to the beach a few minutes later, talking into his cellphone. He met the other boy’s gaze and stuck his tongue out, mouthing the word _Anna_. Dean nodded, biting back a grin. Anna was quite a feisty girl when she chose to be, and he could catch a few words even from where he was standing a few feet away.

_“...worried about you, idiot. Why....tell us where you....going?”_

Castiel did his best to deflect her interrogations and reassured her that, _yes_ , he was fine, and _yes_ , he was with Dean and in one piece. He ended the call with a cheerful, “Love you, sis!” and Dean laughed.

“She's gonna be pissed you hung up on her.”

“She’d be pissed even if I didn’t.”

“Touche.”

 

“You're fucking crazy if you think I'm getting in that water.” Cas stated, crossing his arms. He was already freezing, thank you very much, and knew from dipping his toe in that it was much colder than he would have desired. It was August, for God’s sake.

He deftly jumped back as Dean ran down the dock past him and cannonballed into the lake with a thudding of feet on the wooden planks and a terrific splash. Poking his head back up above the waves, Dean waved him in.

“Come on, you wimp!’

“Not happening.”

“Yes happening.”

“ _Dean_.”

“ _Cas_.”

Dean mocked Cas’ scowl and pulled himself out of the water; Cas’ stare definitely didn't linger on his friend’s dripping chest for longer than necessary. Once Castiel realized what Dean’s plan was he snapped out of his reverie real quick, pointing a finger and already starting to run backwards.

“Dean Winchester don't you fucking _dare_ –” His protest was cut off by Dean’s mischievous laugh, and before he had time to get away Dean ran forward and swept him up in his arms and tossed him over his shoulder. Damn his stupid football practice and rigorous workout routine, Cas’ nerdy physique didn't stand a chance. Castiel pounded his fists lightly against the other boy’s back as Dean spun in a circle, laughing wildly despite himself. “I swear to God you _barbarian_ let go of me!” He wheezed.

“Not until you get in the water!” Dean yelled back, his arms wrapped tightly around the back of Cas’ knees.

“Dean!” Cas warned as Dean began walking toward the edge of the dock. He kicked his feet and flailed, but the other boy showed no signs of putting him down. Finally, Castiel just held his breath and waited for Dean to jump in. The cold lake water rushed up and over his head, surprisingly clean. Cas sputtered and gasped toward the surface, laughing. “Goddammit, Dean–”

The smile faded from his face.

The way Dean had jumped in and the way Cas had risen to the surface had left them them in a, a – _compromising_ position.

Now instead of being slung over Dean’s shoulder, Castiel was caught in the circle of his arms.

Cas’ arms were wound loosely around Dean’s neck.

Dean’s hands were pressed flat to Cas’ lower back.

Their legs were tangled together underwater; somehow Cas was looking down on Dean and his feet weren't touching the ground.

Dean couldn't breathe.

Cas’ sarcastic retort hitched in his throat.

Their faces were inches, no, _centimeters_ apart.

Cas could feel Dean’s breath on his lips and Dean could feel Cas’ pulse pounding against his fingertips.

Ten years of waiting.

Ten years of back and forth, of friendship and harmless flirting that somehow turned into something so much more.

Dean swallowed hard, eyelashes fluttering as he flicked his gaze from Cas’ blue eyes to his lips. “Cas, I–” His voice was rough. He cleared his throat and tried again. “Goddammit, can I–can I kiss you?” Castiel didn't think his voice would work, so he gave a short nod instead. His fingers trembled as he brought them up to brush against Dean’s jaw, and then Dean’s lips were over his. The second their mouths met Dean’s fingers tightened and curled against his bare skin, dull nails scratching in a way that wasn't unpleasant but sent a thrill up Cas’ spine. The action jolted something loose in Cas, and he angled his mouth tighter against Dean’s and pushed himself closer, a soft sort of groan escaping from his throat. Cas tore his mouth away from Dean’s to drag his lips across his jaw and kiss down his neck, agonizingly slowly. Dean forgot how to breathe. He let his head roll back and surrendered to the warm heat rolling off Castiel. There was a sort of delirious electricity flowing between them, something they both felt but neither could explain. Soon they were kissing again and Dean wondered when his entire world began revolving around this messy-haired blue-eyed boy; Cas pondered when he started mapping the stars in Dean’s eyes. They separated for a second, breathing labored and hitching in the midmorning air. He touched his forehead to Dean’s.

“I love you.” Cas said, tears beginning to brim in the corners of his ocean gaze. He closed his eyes and Dean kissed the tears that fell onto his cheeks. Tenderly, he pressed his lips against Cas’ again.

“I love you too, Cas....God, I love you too.” He whispered, his chest aching with the truth of it. It was a sweet kind of aching, the same kind that butterflies that beat their wings at your stomach leave in their wake.

_“we’ll be looking for sunlight_

_or the headlights_

_til our wide eyes burn blind_

_we’ll be lacing the same shoes_

_that we’ve worn through_

_to the bottom of the line_

_and we know that we’re headstrong_

_and our heart’s gone_

_and the timing’s never right_

_for now let’s get away_

_on a roman holiday...”_

 

 


End file.
